


Wronged

by llcflms



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llcflms/pseuds/llcflms
Summary: As Hinami and Ayato get intimate one night, she remembers the stories she had heard of him.
Relationships: Fueguchi Hinami/Kirishima Ayato
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Wronged

She had heard so much, but nothing about him had ever been pleasant. Yet, as he has her under him, watching her with soothing eyes, Hinami’s mind wanders over to the stories she had heard of him and she finds herself doubting the words she had been told, even if she trusts the people who spoke them.

When Hinami first stepped into Aogiri, when her eyes first landed on him, she had already known who he was. He was the one everyone cursed and spat at. He was the person whose name itself was enough to rile Banjou up, make Banjou’s three underlings shrink back and tremble in fear and cause Touka to suddenly fall silent as pure despair clouded her eyes. He’d punch you till your bones shatter and you’re too sore to move. He’d kick you till you’re coughing up blood. He’d beat you up till you’re so sure you’re going to die, only to live another day under his oppressive watch. His words were sharp and vulgar, just like him. His mind knew of nothing but strength and power, the only traces of intelligence lying in the new ways he would mess you up every day. He was a monster, living and hunting for a pack of bigger monsters. They were the scum of the earth, the reason ghouls were hated, the reason every other innocent being suffered— the eradicators who needed to be eradicated.

Her mind ponders over these tales while he leans forward and slowly presses his lips against hers. His hands ran down the length of her body, his nails scraping her skin not enough to hurt or mar her but just enough so that her skin tingles from his touch. He pulls away from her lips only to move to the side of her chin and down the length of her neck. His movements remain slow and gentle, with no hints of dominance and no hints of assertion. He is leading her, sure, but rather than forcefully pushing her ahead, he is taking her hand and pulling her along, all the while looking back to flash her reassuring looks.

“One wrong move and he’d slaughter you,” Banjou had said, shaking his head in disapproval as his three underlings nodded in agreement. He’d curse you at every mistake. He’d make your life a living hell— no, he’d make it seem so dreadful, you’d rather be living in hell. He’d make you scream, cry and grovel at his feet, looking down at you like you’re a peasant at the mercy of the Gods. There was nothing in this guy which knew mercy. All he craved was flesh and blood. 

“Does that feel good? I want you to feel good,” he whispers earnestly, rubbing her softly between her legs. Hinami whimpers in answer, clutching his broad, hard shoulders. He raises his head to look at her and she looks back through narrowed eyes. His dark eyes are void of any emotion, but his face holds his gentle smile. His hand comes to her face, brushing strands of hair out of her face. He presses it against her cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing her skin. With a deep breath, he leans in and whispers in a soft, desperate voice, “Hina, touch me.” 

She yields, raising her hands slowly for her fingers to come into contact with his skin. Smooth to the touch, it’s not something you’d expect from someone who’d grown up in a life of battles and hardships rushing in one after another. But despite the texture, his body was taut and rigid— built and scarred from fights after fights. He shifts himself a little and Hinami’s eyes wander over more skin. There were new scars now— the ones she had memorized sometime back were gone— and she reaches to trace them lightly with her fingers. Those will eventually fade and in their place, new ones will emerge. That was the kind of life he leads— one where he’s always made to hurt; one where he’s always hurt.

He knew nothing of happiness and sadness, Banjou had explained. The kid had no emotions. He wasn’t even capable of feeling anything aside from anger and hatred. He was overwhelmed and driven by them. Wronged by the world, he could only wrong others, as Touka would say in a desperate and hopeless attempt at defending the person she loved more than anything. His strength would only bring pain. It could never protect— only hurt. He follows orders like a dog— no, not a dog, Kaneki had once insisted, as dogs could feel after all. He was more of a puppet— a puppet woven out of the threads of everything negative, an abhorrent knit of suffering and pain. He acts in accordance with his master's will, with no mind, heart and soul of its own. A puppet of battle— he was Aogiri’s greatest soldier.

Hinami’s fingers fumble clumsily with the belt buckle around his waist and he laughs a little at her fruitless efforts. The laugh was soft and short— a mere snort of complete amusement— but Hinami finds herself smiling, bouts of giggles slipping out between her lips. With his help, the belt is eventually out and his pants and boxers follow much faster. His face flushes at being so exposed before her, even though she’d been naked for longer than he had and they’d done this before quite a bit. He looks at everything but her eyes, his boyish embarrassment bringing nothing but more laughs to her. One would think that someone with a body as beautiful as his would be a bit more confident about it. But then again, there was nothing she had ever seen him feel confident about— not his appearance, not his strength, not his ambitions and definitely not his personality.

He chooses to ignore her laugh, surprising her every time she believed he’d lash out and focuses on touching her, bringing her more pleasure. His hands move up to her chest, cupping and lightly massaging the lumps of her breasts. She reaches over to touch him in that one place he desired the most and he groans softly, silent pleas spilling out his mouth as his hands moved to press against the bed to steady himself. His voice, deep and soft, is tinged with a hint of desperation. She looks up at his face hovering above hers, marvelling at the sight of his furrowed brows, squeezed-shut eyes and burning cheeks. His mouth hangs slightly open, soft cries pouring out.

“Hina… right there… don’t stop.” 

He was beautiful— in more ways than she can ever list. There is nothing ugly about him. Every single inch of his body and mind is captivating, drawing her closer and closer. They had told her to run at the sight of him before. They had said that guys like him, especially him, could only taint her. They had said that he would only bring her pain. But all those words mean nothing, not when she’s looking at him at that very moment, unravelling himself before her.

Hinami eventually does stop, despite his soft whine of protest. She looks up to him and he stares back with dead eyes. There’s never much talking between them. Their eyes and expressions are just as good as conveying things as words are. Hinami flips herself over and he presses against her, lightly kissing her shoulder as he lifts her onto her knees. He spreads her legs and eases into her, gently and slowly. Even though Hinami knows it isn’t going to hurt, she can feel his apprehension and fear from the way he moves and holds her.

“It’s okay… I’m okay,” she whispers to reassure him. His movements are slow and fluid. His breathing is shaky and haggard and she can hear it easily despite how soft he’s being. His name spills from her mouth whenever he hits something that feels right. His hips snap against hers, picking up pace and force yet maintaining his gentleness and care. 

“It’s good. This is good,” he murmurs at her ear, his body pressing against her neck. He moves one of his hands over to hers, lacing his fingers with hers. “Just like that. Oh fuck. Just like that, Hinami, please.”

His words are heartening and he supports and cheers her on with every development. Her name slides off his lips like a mantra and every time he whispers it, she feels like she’s rising a little by little. He buries his face into the curve of her neck. He’s mumbling something but it’s getting hard to listen. His movements are getting faster and far less rhythmic than before. Just like her, he’s mewling and moaning, grasping desperately for that light of release right before them. His grip on her tightens, his voice hitches and he snaps his hips with a final thrust. Hinami feels herself pulled off the edge with him and it feels perfect and amazing. He’s there with her, after all. Even if they’re falling, they’re falling together. He’s holding her tight and leading her with him. He’s there and everything will be fine. She knows it so well and she can’t help the tear that trickles down her cheeks. She’s glad he can’t see it. He’d probably panic and wonder if he did anything wrong.

He didn’t do anything wrong. Everything was perfect because of him.

They collapse into the bed, spent and completely exhausted. He lies above her for a moment. He is heavy but despite that, she isn’t bothered by him at all. If anything, it feels right and safe being enveloped by him. His body is warm and despite his firm muscles, she can easily seek refuge and comfort from pressing herself against him. When he eventually rolls off her, leaving her exposed to the cool air, Hinami shivers and immediately reaches for him. But for this day in particular, she pulls him to her, cradling him in her arms and resting her chin on the top of his head. It was a new development but he didn’t seem to mind or question it. He lets her pull him close, kisses her skin briefly and settles down in a comfortable position.

He falls asleep much faster than she expects but that comes with no surprise. He’s always exhausted at night. He is a hard worker, one who did anything anyone asked him to without any complaints. Just that day, he had left the hideout in the early hours of the day and had only returned a little past midnight, completing missions after missions, assignments after assignments. There is a reason he’s the most trusted and responsible member of the organization, after all. But if Aogiri functioned like any normal human organization, it’d probably come under fire for overworking it’s employees (and maybe for child labour as well). Hinami giggles at the thought, slowly getting up and pulling his head onto her lap. She is tired, but she isn’t sleepy, so she resorts herself to watching him sleep as she leans against the back of his bed.

Banjou hated talking about him, but occasionally, stories would be brought out. Nothing about him was ever good though and back then, Hinami had developed a fear for this boy she had never met. But even amidst this fear, she couldn’t deny the curiosity. There had to be a reason why the stories Touka had told her about her precious, naive little brother and the stories Banjou had told her about his depraved fiend of a superior often contradicted. But on top of those, Hinami finds more confusion when she ends up being presented with the person before her. If the little brother Touka knew was the person who’d hide behind her timidly and the Aogiri Executive Banjou knew was the person who’d brutally trash you merely for addressing him wrongly, then what is the person sleeping silently on her lap like— the person who had just taken good care and brought her brief moments of happiness?

Even in sleep, he doesn’t seem to be in peace, with his brows furrowed and his mouth curved in a slight frown. His body squirms a little, with his fingers digging into her skin. His mind is probably plunged in a torrent of nightmares as whispered whines and pleas slip out of his mouth. Hinami reaches over to stroke his hair. His dark hair is soft and smooth and she wonders if he ever spends time taking care of it (though she doubts so). His hair, his skin, his face— none of them really show any indication of his violent, harsh and tragic life. If anything, he looks like any normal teenager does— nothing like Touka’s treasured baby brother and nothing like Banjou’s hated superior. But Hinami was sure of one thing. The person lying on her lap, the person whose face she was staring at, the person who toils hard to make sure no one else has to suffer, the person who keeps an eye on all his subordinates and friends and the person who protects the people he loves even if it means making himself the bad guy— all of them are this young, lost and broken boy lying asleep in front of her. He is the one who whispers his sister’s name in the dead of the night. He is the one who cries and screams softly as memories of his past plague his dreams. He is the one who secretly yearns for redemption as he trudges forward through more sins.

He is the one who comes up with elaborate plans and leads his underlings with the charisma of a natural leader— all with eyes devoid of any ambition and dreams, completely lost after all he’s been true.

He’s the boy she pities. He’s the boy she worries day and night over. He’s the boy she wants to protect.

He’s the boy she loves more than her life itself.

Hinami leans forward and kisses him softly on the head. Her kiss holds no magic strong enough to vanquish his terrors and they continue on despite her. But even then, she holds him tight. Because if she can’t save him, she can at least support him.

“Rest well, Ayato-kun.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered what Hinami had heard about Ayato from people in her past. I'm sure she would have overheard Banjou and Kaneki talking about Aogiri at some point.


End file.
